


Heaven's Highway

by jeeg94



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:03:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeg94/pseuds/jeeg94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they died, however long ago, God dropped Sam and Dean into the Impala on a highway with no end. Even in death, the boys continue the family business, but now they jump through time and space, never existing in one universe for longer than a few days. But they still manage to leave their mark where it counts, it's just a matter of finding the right people to appreciate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sort of a prologue, but we're not really sure

**Author's Note:**

> So a bit of explanation is in order before you read.
> 
> Sam and Dean are obviously in a pre-existing relationship. You kind of need to look at this like it's a spin-off of Doctor Who and Supernatural, where the TARDIS is the Impala, Dean is the Doctor and Sam is his sort of companion (but it's more like they're both Doctors). Also, this story is going to span across many universes, both canon and non-canon. For example, there will be episodes of Supernatural in here, but there will also be episodes of, say, Sherlock.

A family embracing in the snow, not caring about the chaos surrounding them. The quiet snick of the Impala door that sounds gunshot loud in the silence of winter. The family looks up to wish them goodbye but the car is already around the corner. Sam and Dean Winchester are history.

They drive in silence looking for the right on ramp to their highway. A tingle that’s almost pleasurable starts at the bottom of their spines and works its way up signalling that they've almost found it. It’s another couple of blocks and right turns before they get there and the car ceases to exist in that world. 

The sun is nearing its zenith over their highway and Dean knows he’ll have to drive through the night again but he’s not complaining because he never gets tired here. Sam shifts into a horizontal position, his head coming to rest on Dean’s right thigh. He has a few scrapes from the tussle with the shape shifter but nothing a good night’s rest and some of that ointment they were given by a couple they rescued recently won’t heal.

Dean flicks the cruise control on and takes his right hand off the gear shift. He begins carding his fingers through Sam’s hair, smiling gently when his other half makes a noise of contentment. At his feet, the car is suddenly able to accommodate all six foot four of him without a single change. They’ve never wondered about how it changes. It just does, and that’s that.

Sam slips in and out of consciousness, unaware of the passage of time and Dean continues to let his hands wander over Sam's scalp, coaxing small noises of pleasure out of him when he`s awake.

“You’re like a kitten, you know that?” He says at one point.

Sam blinks up at him and makes an exaggerated meowing noise. They both laugh for a while at that one, shared memories coming to the surface.

It’s almost midnight when Dean pulls over for a pee break in a conveniently placed bush on the side of the road. Their highway provides them with everything they could ever need and, since the only bodily function they retained when they started driving was a need to drink, the road gives them bushes or outhouses and sometimes abandoned truck stops.

Sometimes Dean wonders how the highway came into existence. Did it just begin to exist when the brothers died? Or had it always been there but nobody had used it? When God had plopped them there in the front seat of the car on a highway with no end, there hadn’t really been much time to ask questions.

By Sam’s reckoning, that was hundreds of years ago now. After their father, John, had died, they had continued hunting until, in the most ironic turn of events imaginable, the Impala had skidded over a cliff in a rainstorm, plunging them to their deaths in a shallow ravine. 

And they woke up here.

God had given them a quick explanation of their new jobs and how the highway and the new and improved Impala worked and then he had left in order to (once again) pacify Michael and Lucifer.

Dean finishes his pee break, shaking off and then zipping up. Then he circles around to the trunk of the car and rummages through it for the ointment to put on Sam’s face. By the time he’s found it and gotten back in the car, Sam’s wide awake and tearing through a bag of marshmallows that he’s decided to roast with his zippo. He’s got one speared on the end of a silver knife, hovering over the tiny orange flame and damn if that isn’t one of the weirdest pictures Dean’s ever seen.

“What?” Sam says when he notices Dean staring at him incredulously.

“Dude, you’re…” Dean falters, trying to find the right way to put this image into words, “you’re roasting a marshmallow over a zippo lighter with a knife made specifically for killing monsters that change shape. Do you even realize how much you look like some kind of homicidal child killer right now?”

There is a long moment of shocked silence where Dean wonders if he’s mortally offended his brother but then Sam breaks into loud guffaws and slugs him on the shoulder.

“God, you’re such a freak!” He says through his laughter.

“You’re roasting a marshmallow on a silver knife with a zippo and I’m the freak? Okay, Sam,” Dean scoffs, “Whatever you say.”

Dean tosses Sam the ointment and they both laugh for a little while longer, then fall back into silence as they eat up the miles on their highway. In this dimension, whatever it is, the sun is always at the perfect angle so that it never shines directly into their eyes or reflects off a mirror. In fact, everything in this universe is perfect and Dean would stay here forever if he could but they tried that once and if they’re idle for too long, they start feeling like they’re having some kind of insane acid trip and, well, it’s not fun.

When this all first began, Dean used to wonder if he and Sam had been turned into angels somehow but Sam breaking his nose on a job had changed his mind. When they had gotten back to their world, the damage hadn’t lasted nearly as long as it would have normally but it was still a big wake up call.

Dean looks over at Sam, who’s reading a book in the passenger seat (he never gets motion sick and his eyes never get strained, the little shit) and takes in the scrape on his cheek and the split in his lip that stopped sluggishly bleeding only an hour ago. His brother’s been the one constant through everything. No matter what the old bastard upstairs throws at them, they always manage to deal.

And Dean’s kind of inordinately proud of that.

As he’s watching, Sam's posture straightens up so that he’s sitting forward in his seat, eagerly looking to the horizon, like there’s going to be something new there.

And honestly, there probably is. It’s not like they’re connected telepathically but Sam seems to have a sixth sense for when there’s a portal or a rest stop nearby and Dean knows his brother well enough to read the anticipation on his face.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later, the Impala is sliding gracefully off their highway and onto another one. The traffic isn’t all that heavy so it’s likely that nobody’s noticed their arrival but just to make sure, Dean takes the next exit and pulls into the parking lot of a shopping centre. When they stop, Sam gets out of the car and stretches his long limbs and Dean has to look at him for a moment with his mind totally clear because his brother is such a beautiful creature and it’s not fair, none of this is, their life, their afterlife, and everything in between.

As if he feels Dean’s eyes on his back, Sam spins around and smiles so brightly that Dean’s a little blinded, his eyes tearing up slightly. To his chagrin, Sam notices and drops the grin. He leans on the passenger window with both arms crossed and frowns in concern.

“You okay, Dean?” He asks.

“You’re beautiful, Sam,” Dean says, the corner of his mouth twitching because he knows his brother will get flustered and he loves seeing that because every time he sees it is another day he has this wonderful thing of theirs.

Sam does blush and he also smiles shyly and calls Dean a cornball. He gets back in the car a second later and, without shutting the door or looking to see who is watching, kisses Dean square on the mouth. It doesn’t last long because he was obviously aiming for something other than passionate, but it does the trick, leaving Dean dazed and a little foggy.

An appreciative whistle breaks the relative silence and Dean looks out the windshield to see a group of young girls all giggling and pointing at them. Sam, true to form, turns his face into Dean’s shoulder and Dean can see the tips of his brothers ears go even redder in embarrassment. Dean grins and flicks a lazy salute at the girls, then kisses the top of Sam's hair. Sam grumbles something into the collar of his jacket and Dean asks him to repeat himself.

“I said, don’t we have someone to save, big brother?”

Dean shivers at the words and Sam smirks because he knows that Dean gets some kind of sick satisfaction from hearing them. It used to be weird (not really) but Dean got over that just as fast as Sam did and now it’s kind of a turn on for both of them.  


“We sure do, Sammy,” Dean says, “We sure do.”


	2. After-Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy's cute when he's sleepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be slightly longer but I decided that was as good a place to end as any because the next one is going to be longer and possibly include an actual hunt. If anybody has any ideas for cute little domestic things they'd like to see the lads do, don't hesitate to ask :)

It’s about a quarter to six in the morning when the dim glow on the horizon signals the rising of the sun and Dean pulls into the parking lot of a motel and wakes Sam up. He’s had his left wrist broken by what basically qualifies as a zombie and he’s hopped up on painkillers so he’s barely conscious as he flops out of the car and stumbles towards the room they’ve rented for the night. Dean would continue on until they found the entrance to their highway but he’s got a dislocated shoulder and he’s falling asleep at the wheel so he doesn’t think he has many more miles in him. This back-end rat hole will suffice until he stops taking potentially life threatening micro-naps.

Dean props Sam up against the wall and jimmies the key into the lock. He’s not very successful the first time around; actually he misses the door entirely and ends up smashing his knuckles against the stucco siding. He doesn’t even have the energy to let out his usual barrage of expletives. Instead, he drops his head against the doorframe, sighs and gazes mournfully at the abrasions for a long moment. They don’t even hurt.

With another deep sigh, Dean grasps the door handle in his left hand and feels for the keyhole. Without lifting his head, he slots the key into the lock and turns, nearly falling forward when the door swings open of its own accord. He nearly cries in happiness when he sees that the place has two kings, a dining table and a tiny kitchenette consisting of a mini-stove, sink and refrigerator.

 “Sam,” he says, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “Sammy, I need you to focus right here, buddy.”

 Sam mumbles something that sounds like ‘bzuh?’ and straightens himself up without opening his eyes, “I’m awake. I think.”

 Dean chuckles and says, “We got some pretty nice digs this time, little brother. Might want to have yourself a looksee.”

 Sam cracks an eye open and Dean laughs harder because he’s almost positive he heard Sam's eyelashes snapping apart. Sam just glares weakly at him and shoves him through the door.

 The worst part of the motel room is the wallpaper. It’s a sickly shade of green that reminds Dean of the rotted zombie guts that they’re both caked in. On closer inspection, he realizes that there’s a faded pattern of leaves printed across the paper which, Dean supposes, lessens the absolute disgust factor of it.

 Sam comes to a stop, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. “We need to set my wrist and pop your shoulder back into the socket,” He yawns, breaking the sentence into two, “before we’re too tired to move.”

 “We already are, Sammy,” but he doesn’t complain as Sam sits him down on the edge of the mattress closest to the door and kneels behind him.

“Take a deep breath and we’ll go on three,” he says, gripping the front of Dean’s shoulder with his right hand and pressing his left forearm to the edge of the joint. It should hurt like a sonofabitch but Dean’s too out of it to notice. Sam, the little shit, doesn’t even count to two before he shoves as hard as he can and the joint pops awkwardly back into place.

Dean spends the next five minutes swearing in dead languages. The pain released a bout of adrenalin and Dean rides that as he switches places with Sam. As retribution, he says absolutely nothing as he feels for the break and gets a grip on Sam's arm.

“Dean, aren’t you gonna–” He cuts off with a sharp screech when Dean, without warning, snaps the bone into place. His arm is perfectly stationary but the rest of his body flinches so hard Dean’s surprised he’s not thrown off. “Gonna have to splint it for now, until we can get to a hardware store for some plaster. We ran out last time you broke something. Didn’t think we’d need some so soon.”

He’s not even sure Sam hears him because he’s already half asleep as he sits there but that’s okay because Dean’s lost his adrenalin high and he’s well on his way to joining Sam. Before he does, though, he shifts them both up the bed so that Sam's head is on the pillows because he always complains of a crick in his neck if he wakes up without them. Sam doesn’t even flinch when Dean’s head drops to Sam's chest and he snuggles up close (although, to his dying day, he will deny that he was snuggling).

Just before he drops off, Dean feels Sam's leg slip between his own and his arm curve around his waist. He smiles into the fabric of Sam's shirt and vows that if he remembers this in the morning, he’ll tease Sam mercilessly.


End file.
